Irresistible
by Tamahariel
Summary: Anders tried; he really did. He did not intend to let Hawke close, did not intend to touch him. But the man was simply that irresistible.


It was unfair. Anders rubbed at his eyes in a tired and slightly irritable gesture as he nursed a cup of ale that he actually didn't want, sitting together with the others at the Hanged Man. It was early evening and had not Hawke_ insisted_ that Anders be there, he would have been at his clinic doing something _worth_ doing. _Like nursing your loneliness in the damp darkness?_ a wry part of his mind mocked and he shook his head. Perhaps it was best he got out once in a blue moon, as Hawke liked to put it.

And on the subject of Hawke…

The rogue sat a bit further away, talking animatedly to Varric while seemingly absentmindedly moving his fingers over an expensive flute that he'd bought for the very first gold from the expedition a few weeks past. He'd not played yet that evening, but since he had it out he was sure to do before it was time for the gathered companions to split up to search their beds. Anders watched those fingers drifting over the light wood, sliding up and down and _dear Maker_, looking absolutely obscene now that he actually thought about it.

The way those fingers moved greatly resembled the way fingers moved around a certain body part, and that thought coupled with the sight that inspired it, of those hands, moving, _stroking_… Anders felt his loins stir and forced himself to bury his head in his hand, tearing away from the fantasy starting to form before a groan tore from his throat. He did it because he simply _had to _shut out the sight in front of him before he did something he'd regret.

Earlier that day as they wandered down the Wounded Coast, Varric had wondered what had his small clothes in a knot. _This _was the reason. Hawke had this unnerving ability to affect him when he wasn't even trying. Which in a roundabout way said something about how often he_ did _try. It wasn't that the rogue flirted constantly with him, but he did so often enough to prove a point: He was interested in Anders in a not only friendly, but _very-sexual-and-intimate_ way. He also made a point of showing he wasn't shy about it.

It was kind of flattering, Hawke being a very attractive young man. Brown curls that were slicked back from his face and secured with small pins, creating a cascading mane around the back of his neck, and coupled with his typically fereldan skin, lightly tanned from working underneath the sun, he made for quite the view. Even his murky green eyes were attractive, though Anders normally didn't find dark and obscure colors to be all that interesting. The reason he found Hawke's to be that… well, apart from the fact he was simply attracted to the man, it could be something with the way his eyes were constantly partially lidded, giving him a sort of languid, easy look.

A look that could strip you down to your underwear at the same time as it looked decent to anyone else watching. Something the rogue had too much fun telling Anders about, smiling at his shocked expression.

_"What did you really think I did with all those looks your way?"_

He grumbled as he remembered the smile Hawke had donned when he couldn't form a coherent answer. And the worst was that things had this tendency to-

"Wow, someone looks like they need a good polish." -become absurdly worse.

"Hello to you too Isabela." Anders groused exasperatedly when the pirate sat down next to him, one leg tossed casually over the other and elbow leaning on the table as she looked at him.

"Had a rough night?" Anders glared at the busty woman, finding too many implications in that one sentence to pretend not to notice.

"If you're asking whether I slept with someone, then I can tell you its none of your business." He said sharply, to which Isabela responded with shaking her head.

"Not this time Sparkly. I just thought you looked a bit more worn than usual." Anders relaxed a little and almost felt a little bad about reacting the way he had. "Besides, Hawke would be way more ecstatic if he finally got into your pants, so I would have known." Isabela continued with a laugh as Anders spluttered. He took the previous thought back. He did_ not_ feel bad about snapping at her.

The pirate had too much fun with his reaction, her laugh drawing unwanted attention from the other companions, attention he diverted with a tired gesture the woman's way. Most shrugged it off then, but Anders found that Hawke's gaze lingered, looking between the pirate and himself in a way Anders wasn't completely comfortable with. Forcing his discomfort away and ignoring Hawke's silent looks he tuned back to the busty pirate and found that she still chuckled slightly.

Narrowing his eyes he growled_ "Isabela"_, while giving her a pointed look.

She stopped chortling and raised a brow. "What?" Isabela asked, but Anders didn't have the time to reply as Hawke called out.

"Ladies, please, keep your hands and other body parts off of each other and lay off your drinks. I wouldn't want my music to be interrupted by pints flying or eyes being clawed out." It was a petty attempt at humor but no complaints were raised, more for the sole reason that Hawke didn't wait for any to come and instead put his instrument to his lips and took a sharp note before quickly picking up a jovial tune that soon filled the suite.

Anders, his discussion having been disrupted so clearly, sunk back in his seat and brought his pint up to his mouth, taking a sip of the dark swill. And put the pint down again with a grimace. The ale here was bloody awful. Combined with the fact he wouldn't be able to get more than tipsy even after ten pints, if he even managed to down that many of the bitter brew, it was as good of an argument as any to follow through with his resolution to stop drinking. It wasn't worth the effort. Nor the coin.

Swallowing a sigh he let his gaze drift over the room. Not that he should've bothered. It was inevitable that his gaze would fall on Hawke, so he might as well have looked over at him to begin with. But if he took a look at the rest of the room and then just _happened_ to linger on the rogue, he could at least have the weak excuse of not staring _intentionally_. That he didn't even trick _himself_ with that excuse was beside the point.

Tuning his thoughts out when they became irrelevant, Anders was surprised to hear 'A King's Man' rise within the room, the at times almost shrill notes cutting through the air in a melody he hadn't heard since he was a warden back at Vigil's Keep. The Commander had often had it played, sometimes sung it himself, saying it reminded him of Orlais. He watched Hawke play it lively, wondering where he'd learned it and if he knew the story it was based on.

He focused so intently on the melody, lowly humming along, that he didn't have the self-awareness to be embarrassed about it even when it ended on a shrill note and Isabela nudged him with a smile like that of the cat who caught the canary.

"I didn't know you could sing." She purred and he gave her a dour look in return.

"I wasn't singing." She gave him a look saying "Really?" and he rectified his statement with a shrug.

"I was humming."

"So I heard. A man with musical sense is still a rare find." Her dark eyes -too dark for his tastes- searched his and he raised both brows in mock surprise.

"Really? I see you've missed Hawke then. If you wished I could introduce him to you." Anders feigned eagerness, making as if to stand, expecting the hand that snapped out to pull him down in his seat again.

Ensured that he was going to stay in his seat, she pouted. "Your humor sucks." She even had the audacity to complain.

"I never noticed." He said flatly and turned back to looking at everything but the pirate. Possibly staring a tiny bit more at Hawke, who was busy wetting his pipes with some drink that looked much better than the one he himself had in his pint, which he noted with a slight frown and dejected glare at his drink.

Anders was then reminded why you never leave a discussion with Isabela unfinished. He only caught the last part of her murmured sentence "…probably too busy thinking of sucking Hawke to notice." but he jerked in his seat, feeling a bit too hot in his clothes. The comment was too close to his rather regular fantasies, and he turned back to the pirate in an attempt to snap back wittily or otherwise before it was too late to protest.

But alas, he just found his mouth opening and closing uselessly; he was at a loss for words. The woman smiled smugly. "Just so." Useless to say, Anders snapped his mouth shut at that.

It didn't stop Isabela's grin from widening and her chest to juggle as she began chuckling, trying to muffle it with her fist but only succeeding partially. Anders turned away, feeling humiliated and flushed and when looking up at Hawke who he found sat watching him, his lips pursed and turning into a quick pout when their eyes met, Anders felt aroused of all things.

Because after seeing Hawke's expression, right after Isabela had said what she had, Anders couldn't focus on anything but the thought of Hawke's lips pursed just so, wrapped around flesh, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration… Let's say it wasn't only Justice that berated him for the thoughts flickering unbidden throughout his mind with waves of guilt and nausea. He did so himself. He did not wish to think of Hawke that way. He shouldn't. According to Justice, he even _couldn't_.

Forcing his gaze away, breaking eye contact with the rogue he once more came face to face with the knowing smile on Isabela's pouty lips, the woman having stifled her chuckles and returned to smiling smugly, which felt absolutely horrible as he felt like she knew exactly what he had thought and held it dangling over his head. The only thing that possibly felt worse than that, was, like always, the knowledge that things could still become so much worse.

Which with his usual luck, it did. Isabela leaned forward as though for a confidential whisper, when she was in fact just going to rub it in his face. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to accept Hawke's advances. I'm sure it would do you good to have someone else to share your body with than that spirit of yours." She winked suggestively but it didn't precisely help ease the words she'd spoken. In a way, it made it much worse.

"Isabela, please do not compare coupling with, well, _possession._ It gives me these horrible mental images." He fought down the churning in his stomach even as he tried to keep a straight face, not wanting the woman to have even more to gloat over as he grew increasingly uncomfortable in her presence.

It worked, but it didn't avert her attention. "What? Your Justice not attractive?" Instead her curiosity was piqued apparently.

"He's _Justice_. He doesn't _have to be _pretty." A deliberate pause. "Not that it helps that last I_ saw _him, he ran around as a corpse." The memory of Kristoff's hollowed cheeks and rotting limbs and dead eyes coupled with the word sex was not a chain of thought Anders wanted to entertain. He hoped it would dissuade Isabela from keeping this discussion alive, but she was like a mabari on a trail. Wouldn't stop unless her master ordered her. Though she didn't have a master, so that was a pretty useless comparison.

Isabela put her chin in her hand and seemed almost to consider his words."Hm, I could see where that wouldn't precisely inspire wild and dirty sex." She mused and he _almost_ thought she'd let the topic slide as the silence stretched.

He should have made his retreat while he had the chance.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't bend Hawke over and fuck brains out next time he flirts." She said flippantly and Anders barely had the composure to form a coherent protest after that comment. The thought of Hawke bent from the waist, that lovely arse on display so he could give it a good smack before parting the cheeks and-

_"Isabela!"_ The protest was ripped from his lips sharply with all the pent up frustration that had built during the time she'd prodded him that evening, and then some. He didn't realize how loudly he'd said it before he noticed how his aggravated exclamation was followed by silence that informed him that the surrounding chatter had died down. Swallowing, he turned to look out over the room, seeing the slightly annoyed and inquiring looks pointed their ways, then meeting Hawke's gaze. A gaze that was curious, slightly concerned and- No, he was imagining _that_ feeling. He cleared his throat and diverted his gaze, mumbling something that could pass as an apology.

He looked back at Isabella when she tapped him on the knee, feeling more than irritated enough with her. "If this is more about me and Hawke, then I won't hear it." He told her bluntly and a look of disappointment overtook her expression.

"I truly don't understand you, Anders." Anders only briefly noted her switch from nickname to actual name, something he may have wished to put more weight on. But as it was, he just answered her flatly and with brutal honesty.

"I don't expect you to." He replied and she swatted him with the hand still resting against his knee, a gesture that angered him further as she didn't seem to understand when to stop prodding.

Or maybe she did. "Suite yourself, then." She just had to get the last word though, didn't she. "Just remember to come to me for comfort." She winked and he sent her a scathing look, to see for himself whether she meant what he thought she implied, but she turned from him, ignoring him and reaching for a drink he hadn't seen her having but should have expected. Shaking his head angrily, he rose and excused himself, not waiting to see if anyone, like Hawke, would try and convince him to stay longer or come with questions as to what was wrong. If they were just curious they could ask Isabela, she'd most likely be more than happy to spin her tales which he wouldn't even have to deny since none would believe them, the only possible exception being Merrill, but he didn't need think of that.

He walked out the door, down the stairs and across the common room and out into the dark evening, perfectly aware that if, against all reason and odds, his friends were _more_ than just curious with his sudden departure, they could find him at his clinic.

* * *

><p>That night, when Darktown was as dark as it's name and he'd finally made his way to the clinic after the gathering at the Hanged man and he had gotten the chance to calm down, he was haunted by the images inspired by his talk with Isabela. Images of Hawke. Hawke's tongue darting out, wetting his lips and swallowing. Hawke's eyes meeting his and lids lowering in a subtle leer. <em>Hawke's lips wrapped around his length while his brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to take him deeper-.<em>

_Andraste's knickerweasels! _He was growing mad! _Surely _he was losing his mind. He brought a hand up to his head and clawed at his hair in frustration. It shouldn't be this way. This-This interest bordering on obsession… Why Hawke? Why now? Why hadn't he experienced this strong pull when he was in the Circle or with the Wardens? When he didn't have an all consuming goal to strive towards _and that needed no distractions._ He frowned as Justice crept into the thought, forcing the issue he knew was important to the spirit.

_I know, Justice_, he thought but then his thoughts strayed back to Hawke and lips and lurid gazes, undermining his resolve and the confidence of his silent statement. He expected the spirit to berate him, expected to feel disapproval flood his pores, but there was none but a ghost of his own disappointment in himself. He supposed the spirit couldn't impose on him_ all _the time. Something for which he was glad.

Releasing his hair with a sigh he ensured the clinic was secured for the night before he slipped into the back room and out of his clothes, and finally into the rackety cot he slept in. Dawn would be coming all too quickly and he needed to rest while he had the chance. Tomorrow, there were poultices to make, patients to attend to and most likely a mission to be dragged along on. And of course indecent thoughts to banish, impulses to ignore and flirtations to let slide with minimal response.

_Pirates to ignore._

He sighed, and when he closed his eyes Hawke flooded his mind again. But sleep caught him disappointingly quickly that night. He had but a short glimpse of awareness of the fade before all-consuming blackness erased all thought.

* * *

><p>Anders woke with a start, slightly disoriented when his eyes flew open. The night had waned and morning had come, he knew this much. Yet he felt like no time had passed since he'd closed his eyes. No dreams, no awareness of the hours he'd spent asleep and the only evidence of his rest being the stiffness of his limbs and the sandy feel of his eyes. It was a tad unsettling. He knew that Justice had taken to wander the fade in his place, but these lapses that came occasionally when he went to sleep, when he could not feel what had transpired or how much time had passed, when he did not <em>dream<em>… they were frightening.

Pushing the dreadful feeling to the back of his mind he detangled his legs from the blanket and put his bare feet down on the cold floor with a slight wince. Heading over to a small basin where he kept water he scrubbed his face and then went on to get himself and the clinic ready for the patients who came early before going to work for their life bread.

By noon he had yet to be interrupted in his work. Exhaustion had started to set in and he would have welcomed the sound of armor and spontaneous banter heralding the arrival of Hawke and whomever he brought with him; _so long as Isabela was not one of them_. A small stab of reproach drove him to focus once more on the work before him, a foul infection, oozing acrid pus. He took his time cleaning the wound before wrapping a bandage with a salve to draw out the infection around the limb, finally letting the man go with a few instructions of how to care for it until next time.

Then he turned to the next patient and the next after that in a seemingly never-ending cycle. After a while he found himself on his knees, attending to bad scrapes and high risk injuries on peoples feet. Many coming directly from their work, some possibly directly from the mines or underground. He knew not how long he worked, but when a hand came down on his shoulder and startled him aware he was expecting it to be another patient, but it proved to be someone else entirely. He blinked at the dwarf, trying to think of a reason for him to be there.

"Do you need something, Varric?" Anders finally asked, his sluggish thoughts praying he wouldn't have to take care of something of a 'personal' nature.

"Not me Blondie, but Hawke does." The dwarf answered and Anders who was still counting the numerous troubles the man could come dragging with, instantly lumped Hawke together with the many unmentionables. Instantly more alert he blinked and was on his feet before his brain had the time to realize that he didn't really know what Hawke needed help with. And that it surely didn't involve his lower regions and warts. Scrubbing a hand over his face in disbelief of his own imagery, he asked Varric to clarify.

"What, exactly, does Hawke need help with? As you might see" Anders made a gesture indicating the room, still scrubbing his gritty eyes "I'm a bit busy."

"The place is as empty as a beggars plate, Blondie." Anders blinked under the cover of a hand and when he lowered it to look around he found that the dwarf was correct. The room was lit up by lanterns, evening having fallen and everyone had left. Dizzied by the realization he had no idea when they'd left he staggered, a hand shooting out to steady him.

"Whoa, easy there." Anders would have thanked the dwarf if he wasn't too busy wracking his mind for the missing time. He'd lost at least an hour or two, and he couldn't for the best of him understand how he'd succeeded with that, nor how he'd spent the time.

_Justice, what happened?_ He asked the spirit but he received no answer, just an echo of the question he asked. He shook his head to clear it. Why had he even bothered asking? He knew that Justice wasn't really there in that sense. He was a part of him, not some separate being to converse with. He still wasn't used to it though. He missed talking to the spirit sometimes. It wasn't the same to simply recognize when the spirit influenced his thoughts more than usual. Or to be a pushed aside completely, just barely aware of what the spirit was doing as it forced its dominance over him.

Anders blinked in surprise when he felt the grip on his arm tighten a little. He looked down and saw a politely concerned look on the dwarf's expression, and he brought a hand down to remove Varric's grip on him with a reassurance that died on his lips. "Sorry, I'm-… I feel like I've been asleep for the past few hours. You said something about Hawke?"

Varric backed a step, giving Anders space to gather himself. "He went out to root out some bandits during the day and Aveline took a heavy blow to her leg. I got the message she's unable to walk and they are having trouble moving her, so I thought I'd go see if our healer has the time to come and help." He paused. "Though, looking at you _now_ I feel like I might be in for a nasty surprise if I make you tag along."

"Of course I'll help Aveline. Where is she?" Anders had snapped to attention at the mention of an injury and was already on his way to his staff and the shelves where he kept his inventory. He heard the footsteps indicating the dwarf followed him and looked back as he secured his pouches around his waist.

"Blondie, you're not listening. Hawke will _skin me alive_ if I drag you there looking like you've spent the past few days in a darkspawn infested hole."

"Like I've- Varric, not to be vain but I can't possibly look that bad. Have you seen someone who's been _that_ exposed to darkspawn? I've seen my fair share being a warden-"

"And I was on that expedition, as you might wish to remember." Varric interrupted, a flash of regret flitting briefly over the normally cheerful expression before it was replaced with a loose frown. Anders pinched his nose and took a calming breath, trying in vain to sort his thoughts.

"Of course, you were, weren't you." He shook his head, ignoring the stab of guilt as Bethany briefly flashed across his inner vision. "Forget I said anything. Just- Just tell me where they've taken Aveline and lets go. I'll take care of Hawke if he starts pissing." He brought his hand down again and saw a grin that was horribly malplaced on the dwarf's face considering the situation at hand. "Not literally"Anders pointed out and scowled, irritated that the man would be serious, _almost sad _one moment, and joking the next.

"Of course not, Blondie. Of course not" The dwarf smiled disarmingly and Anders couldn't help but make a rude gesture in response, exasperated but decidedly less angry. Varric just snorted good-naturedly, lifting the heavy mood with his best 'best-buddy' voice. "Not that there would be anything wrong if you did it _almost _literally." A suggestive -_could dwarfs even look suggestive?_- waggling of eyebrows followed the statement and Anders was once more at a loss.

Isabela's words from the day before came to him and he scowled at the dwarf, against reason hoping it would reveal the man's intentions. When no big revelation occurred, no big truth bubbled to the surface, he felt his scowl slip into a pout.

"You've spent too much time with Isabela" He began accusingly and Varric shrugged, interrupting.

"Rivaini is not the only one with eyes and ears Blondie." He said appeasingly but it didn't ease the tension between them. He tried again. "I'm not denying I've had a chat or two with her though, but your interest isn't precisely subtle." There was a hint there if one was to search for it, but Anders was to high-strung to notice.

"I… I'm not-" Anders began but found he couldn't really finish the sentence. It wouldn't do to say he wasn't interested in Hawke that way, for apparently _everyone_ knew already. So what was he to say? Frustrated, Anders turned his back to the dwarf and snatched his staff up before once more facing the man, opening his mouth to say… something. Anything.

But only silence came.

Varric saved them from that awkward moment were words failed and the silence began to simmer."Don't fret it Blondie. I'm just messing with you. I'm not so stupid as to actually mess with Hawke's love affairs." Another hint flying over his head. "As long as I can get something for my story, I'm good." Anders nodded, relieved if a bit annoyed still. But he had more important things to focus on than what the dwarf thought about him at that moment. He gave the man a meaningful look.

"Aveline?" He prompted and Varric held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Just remember to keep Hawke off my back." He said before leading the way out of the clinic and into the twisting streets of Darktown, and eventually up to the Docks.

Apparently, Hawke had used his contact with the smuggler Athenril to borrow a small warehouse close to one the city gates. They met Hawke right outside the door and he flashed him a relieved smile that sobered somewhat when they entered into the small sphere of light from a lantern. But to his credit, he only took a quick estimating look of them before he led them to the others.

Before their arrival, he had together with Merrill and Fenris helped Aveline onto a makeshift table and then left Merrill to help the woman out of her greaves, giving the woman some privacy and allowing some uphold of dignity. Now he went off to the side to give Anders some space to work, but remained within the room.

Anders ignored the others and went over to the guardswoman. "So, what hit you and where?" He found that straight to the point worked best with the straight-laced woman.

"A raider's sword caught underneath the armor plate. Left leg." She answered stiffly and Anders turned to the appointed side and instantly saw the darker spot on her pants. The cloth clung to the skin and he nodded to himself. Taking the garment of would have aggravated the wound further, whilst leaving it on had made it work as a makeshift bandage.

He took a water-skin he'd brought from his pack and carefully poured the water over the wounded area, a little at a time to loosen the scabbed blood. Once he was able to move the edges of the torn fabric to actually see the wound, he took a small knife and split the cloth further, giving more access. The wound fully bared and once more bleeding slightly, he began to send tendrils of healing magic into the flesh, knitting it back together from the inside and out.

When he started to reach the outer layers he found that his energy was too depleted to finish it completely. Not surprising considering the batch of people that had needed his help that day. With a heavy sigh he ended the spell and pulled out a needle and thread, quickly sterilizing it before sewing the edges together with quick efficiency. He quietly spoke as he worked.

"Your muscles will be a bit sore for a few days, and you'll need to let the skin heal together naturally. Avoid heavy combat and marching, and if the stitches tear you'll have to have them remade. I'm certain you can handle it yourself from here." He cut the thread off after the last stitch and put his things away before rising, using the makeshift table to keep balance as he straightened his back until it popped uncomfortably, releasing tension along the length of it.

Aveline carefully rose when he backed away and tried out her leg before turning to him with a slightly stiff "Thank you".

Anders didn't mind the awkward formality she used towards him and dismissed it even as he started to heft everything back onto himself so he could leave. Though he wasn't surprised when Hawke stopped him from leaving, pulling him to the side even as the others trotted out off the warehouse, snuffing the lights out as they did so.

Varric paused at the door with a questioning look Hawke's way but left after something passed unsaid between them, which to Anders' eyes was a look and a wave that could have meant anything. He dismissed it as being something between rogues.

He resisted the urge to rub his tired eyes when Hawke turned his attention back to him. His eyes seemed almost black in the dim light of the warehouse and his hair looked the same, a sliver of light causing a pale reflection against the oiled back front while the locks at the back of his head almost disappeared in the gloom.

"Are you feeling alright, Anders? I can see you're exhausted."

"Yes, I'm fine. And a bit tired." He admitted it easily as it was always better to be honest about these things than to try and dismiss it. Trying the latter when Hawke was convinced about something usually ended with the man putting you under house arrest until you _really_ felt better, and looked the part.

Hawke tilted his head in slightly concern. "Varric mentioned you seemed a bit out of it. Did something happen or have you just been sleeping poorly?"

Anders resisted the initial response of 'How funny you would ask about my sleeping pattern! Isabela did the same just yesterday!' What he did say was only marginally better though.

"Did he? Well, that was nice of him. Here I thought he wouldn't mess around in others' business."

Hawke blinked, the light reflection in his eyes snuffed out briefly before it reappeared. "Did he really say that? I've tried to make him mind his own business for a year without success." There was an ample dose of curiosity in his tone now, and Anders could have cursed. Now he'd most likely be bombarded with questions about what could have brought that particular loose promise out of the dwarf. And he didn't want to say the dwarf had suggested Anders take care of him should he… well.

Best to divert his attention.

"I'm really curious…" Hawke began and Anders panicked. _How to divert his attention?_

"I'm kind of curious as well. You- Uhm… you look like you've been sleeping quite well! Unlike me, I mean." _Of all the idiotic, moronic, retarded-_

"Slept well? I believe so. Actually, I've had quite some entertaining dreams lately. You were even in some of them." _-damn teasing things to say. _

The curiosity had faded from Hawke's voice and been replaced with the light lilting tone he used whenever he flirted. Anders cleared his throat awkwardly, unable to hide the smile that tugged at his lips. "Oh really?" He said without thinking and saw the smile that nearly cleaved Hawke's face at the remark. The rogue took a measured step closer, just barely breaching that personal zone and damn, Anders didn't know whether to retreat or allow it. He swallowed and waited for Hawke's next move.

Hawke did not disappoint.

"Yes. Sometimes it's just _you_ and _me_. In the Hanged Man, the forrest by Sundermount, sometimes even the Blooming rose." He said it slowly as though he was considering his words carefully, dragging them out to give Anders time to form some _in_appropriate images of every place.

"W-well, and what could we possibly do in those places?" Anders couldn't believe he'd said that. Damn, why was he flirting? _Why was he flirting back with Hawke? _This wasn't the time for it. It wasn't like he could seduce him in a warehou-.

"Oh, a bit of this and that. In my dreams you are… _creative._ I blame Isabela for that. I should know better than to listen to her stories." He smiled wryly and Anders thoughts were lost as he licked his lips.

The sudden tightening in his breaches wasn't due to what Hawke said about _him _in his dreams. Nor was it the dart of movement by his mouth. It was the reminder of what Isabela had talked to him about the evening before. The mention of Isabela brought that conversation back to him, _especially_ the part about bending Hawke over and fucking his brains out next time he flirted.

Hawke was flirting with him _now_. He swallowed and tried to push that thought out of his mind, but it wasn't that easy with Hawke's body so close to his own, in a dark room where they were completely alone. Maker, he could even feel the scent of him, sweat and dust and sandalwood.

Or was that the warehouse? The sweat certainly wasn't.

Realizing that Hawke was waiting for some kind of response he wracked his brain and while he did that, let his mouth run of without supervision.

Stupid, stupid thing to do.

"Well she would know, wouldn't she. Did you know we had a fling once? It was back in Ferelden, but it seems I left an impression." He realized to late what he'd said and saw how the smile on Hawke's face faltered and the distance between them increased until Hawke left the intimate space around him. He felt like the very warmth went out of the air as Hawke responded.

"Yes, I knew that. You spoke of it on the wounded coast a few weeks back, before the deep roads." His voice was as warm as it usually was, but also very casual. It had lost that sexy undertone and Anders wished he had learned the noble art of shoving ones foot into ones own mouth. Then he wouldn't blurt stupid things out as often as he did. He ached to hear that light lilt of Hawke's. Damn, his cock ached for _Hawke_ in general. Something he wasn't all keen on letting Hawke know, especially not after blurting something as insensitive as he had. That didn't discourage his arousal though and it was through a will of effort that he kept a straight face and his hands away from his crotch.

Luckily, Hawke soon decided to end their moment of awkwardness, telling him to go home and rest, take it easy for a few days. He also told him to meet him in the Hanged Man in a week. Then he left before Anders, which he also considered to be lucky as he wouldn't want to explain why he walked like he had a stick up his arse. _If_ he even got the chance to explain before Hawke realized it.

To be honest he didn't know which would be worse.

* * *

><p>AN: So, I hope you enjoyed that. More written, just being polished before published.


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